Complications of Life
by Half-Blood101
Summary: This is a story about one wizard, and three witches. This is about how four kids deal with real Hogwarts life. Life with alcohol, drugs, sex, lies, rumours, friends, enemies, relationships, and the good ones just trying to make it out okay.
1. Introduction of Sorts

This story centers around three girls, and three boys. You'll be thrown straight into the story...right in the centre of the drama. So here, let me introduce you... Read it. It's important.

Ashley Bloor

Birthday: March 2nd.

Blond, long, curly hair. Bright blue eyes, long lashes, small lips. Pretty face, slender body. 5"7. Smart, caring, stubborn, curious, out-going, popular. Wealthy family. Loves clothes and all related. Paris, shopping...the only girly girl whose so far from a brat it's unbelievable. Half-blood. Lives in the country. Gryffindor.

Katie Weasley

Birthday: April 16th

Shoulder length straight red hair, hazel eyes, 5"8. Not pretty in a cute way, but that makes guys think one thing-hot. Curvaceous, voluptuous. All that. Flirty and fun with friends, not as out-going as you'd think to guys. Kind, sweet, sarcastic. An amazing friend. Not really poor, but...average. Pure-blood. Lives in the country, a mile or two from Ashley's. Gryffindor. Chaser.

Alanna Black

Birthday: July 21st

Dark brown (almost black) wavy hair, green eyes, stunningly pretty features. Around 5"6. Philosophical, studious, caring, great listener, loves to read. Friendly all around good person. Had her fair share of dates. Comes from a very wealthy family. Pure-blood. Lives in Godric's hallow. Gryffindor. Seeker.

Jake Ryan

Birthday: January 12th

Hot. Sexy. Messy dirty blond hair, deep blue eyes. Toned and muscled body, 5"11. Can be arrogant, stubborn, annoying, protective, teasing, flirty, guyish, and yet the best guy around. At other times he can be caring, sweet, funny, loving, and an amazing friend. Quidditch captain. Popular. Jock type. Comes from a wealthy, darker family. Not at all like his parents. Pure-blood. Has more issues than anyone could have thought. Gryffindor. Lives in the country, a mile or two from Katie's.

Matt Scoper

Birthday: Decemeber 27th

Adroable. Hot. All at once. Messy brown hair, blue eyes. 6". Not muscled, but...toned. Most caring, kindest, sweetes, most wonderful guy you will meet. Funny and a great friend. Half-blood. Not really part of the in crowd, prefers single friends rather than large groups. Gryffindor.

Will Carter 

Sexy. Extremely hot. Black hair, dark blue eyes. Muscle. Amazing body. Talk of most girls. Smart. A year older than the rest. Pure-blood. Seems dark, but a good guy once you get to meet him. Protective. Rich. Just as mysterious to me as he is to you.

Now...follow along.

Everyone but Will is in 6th year.

Ashley, Katie, and Alanna are best friends.

Ashley is dating Jake.

Katie is dating Matt.

Alanna is dating Will.

Will and Jake are cousins.

Jake and Matt are now practically best mates.

Jake and Katie are best friends, but they still flirt like MAD.

Jake and Alanna have this love/hate relationship.

Got it? Good.


	2. A Warm Welcome Back

**A/N: So I think I'm going to start off here...let you get to know the characters a bit more deeper than they appear on the surface. Review! Come on, it will only take a minuteeee. :)**

_End of July. Summer Before 6th Year._

Jake tiptoed through the door, closing it silently behind him. He then lifted the heavy black suitcase and large gym bag, swinging it soundlessly onto his shoulder. His heart was beating painfully against his chest, as he hoped his parents were out, or asleep-as long as they weren't home. Then again, it wasn't as if they would care he'd been away; they probably hadn't even noticed he was gone. The last time Jake had seen them, his father had informed him that they would leaving on a trip, and would be back in a few days-a week or so. So he told himself he didn't care if they did notice. Or how much trouble he'd get into.

Their little rebel son. Only sixteen and already leaving to Paris on his own. Jake almost laughed at the thought, but really it wasn't such a laughing matter. He really could get in deep trouble...and knowing his father... The smile disappeared, and his heart started picking up pace once more. No no. They wouldn't care. _Just keep telling yourself that. _Whatever, he just wanted to get upstairs. He was tired from the plane. Although it was only an hour flight to Paris, his watch showed 2AM, and Jake hadn't slept at all.

He tiptoed down the dark entrance hall and to the past the large staircase in the centre of the marble floor, careful not to make noise. He wasn't stupid enough to try the main staircase, right in plain view. What if someone decided to come down? No, Jake instead went to the secondary staircase, this one deeper into the house and further from the flight that lead to his parents bedroom. Ever so lightly he began to climb, luggage still held tightly in his hands.

_Creeeaaak._

Really? He had to choose the wooden staircase?

"JACOB ANTHONY RYAN!" someone shouted from behind him. His heart stopped, and he dropped the suitcase on the nearest step, turning around to face whoever had called him. A woman was fast approaching the edge of the stairs case, and when she did, she pulling him down and into a tight hug. Jake dropped the duffel bag to the floor and wrapped his arms around her.

He leaned his head into the pale silver blond hair before pulling away, feeling uncomfortable. "Hey, Mum." Jake murmured, forcing a small smile. Well. That was slightly awkward. Since when did she hug him?

His mother glared, eyes blurry with tears. It seemed she had been up, the tell tail signs of pony-tailed hair and light shadows beneath her eyes. That and the silk house coat she now wore.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed, slapping him upside the head. It didn't really hurt, but Jake lifted a hand to rub it anyway. "Вы испугали меня до смерти!" _You scared me to death..._

"I'm sorry," Jake sighed. He pulled away and took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I didn't think you would have cared."

"Would have CARED?" she shot back appalled. Tears started to spill over her eyes, and Jake's mother looked up at him, anger and hurt written all over her face. "Jacob we came back and you were GONE! You didn't come back for two weeks! What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?"

"Well...you left in the first place!" Jake snapped, unsure of what to say. He didn't know she would have been that upset over it. He was convinced when he left that she hadn't care. His mother never seemed to before.

"So? We had to leave and you just DISAPPEAR! With no NOTE! Where the HELL did you go?" His mother glared at him accusingly, eyes still blurry. She crossed her arms, and stood there, eyebrows raised as she waited for an answer.

"Paris... with the Bloors." Jake muttered, looking away from her guiltily. "I was upset, alright? Father was acting like such a-" He stopped himself, in case his father might hear exactly what he was being and decided to go with something else. "He was..._upsetting_ me. And then you left. So, you know, I truly didn't think you would have cared. I doubt he did."

"Jake it isn't ABOUT him! You can NOT take off like that! Ever, EVER again!" Her voice had gone shrill and the tears were starting to return. He really wished she'd stop crying. Her tears were confusing and irritating, and they were making him uncomfortable. "You are my son, and I do not want to lose you. When you disappear for two weeks and I have no idea where you are, it scares me. I am a MOTHER. You cannot do that! You are only sixteen, Jacob. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with you!"

Jake looked away, refusing to say a word. Fine, so he had hurt her. He was sorry, 'regretted her pain'. But it didn't seem his father cared. They didn't care a SHIT...then one time he leaves and they all of the sudden give a damn? Maybe his mother had. Maybe. But it wasn't fair for her to decide to show this now.

"Yes, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Jake muttered, still refusing to look at her. There was no response for a few seconds, and curious, Jake returned his gaze. He found his mother looking at his clothes, as if puzzles, her arms crossed.

"What are you wearing?" she finally asked, her voice quiet.

"It's Italian. Muggle clothing...it's quite nice in their world." Jake said stiffly, crossing his own arms. He glanced down at the leather jacket, button down shirt, jeans and patten leather shoes. They looked fine to him.

"Yes...well your living in ours." She cleared her throat and fingered the jacket's lapel before drawing her hand back. "So change and get to bed. We'll talk about your punishment tomorrow." His mother looked him over, before sighing almost inaudably.

Jake just nodded and muttered 'goodnight, then' before turning and grabbing his duffle bag. He was about to start up the stairs when another voice came from behind. This time, it was unmistakably his father's.

"Actually, I'd like to talk about it now." he hissed, voice a low growl. "Jacob, come with me to my office."

Stopping and straightening his back he turned around to face the broad shouldered man. And that man did not look happy.

Jake rolled his eyes and threw the bag down again. His mother hit his back lightly for it as he passed, but her eyes showed only concern as she watched him follow her husband. The second Jake passed his father, Anthony Ryan grabbed his son's collar roughly, pulling him into almost a drag. Jake stayed silent. Of course, colorful swear words were shooting through his mind-but his Father didn't have to know that.

Jake was lead to the vast darkly furnished office, the lit fire casting a sinister glow on the entire room. Shadows seemed to move up and down over the wood, the marble floor, even the carpet beneath the desk and chairs. His father released him and pulled his wand out-Jake almost thought he was about to curse him-flicking it toward the doors. He heard them shut with a small thud and click and drew in a quite breath, preparing himself for the worst. Jake remained faced forward and still, gaze locked on the back wall.

"What, the HELL is wrong with you?" his father suddenly snarled, coming in front of his line of vision. Jake chose to stay silent, due to the fact he didn't know how to respond. There was a few seconds pause before his father drew back his hand-and hit it straight across his sons face.

Jake's head snapped to the side, and he lifted a hand to his now burning cheek. Bastard, that one actually stung. He turned his head slowly to face forward and glared at his father, heart pounding. He still didn't answer. He didn't know how to, nor did he really want to.

"Leaving to go to Paris? And you didn't even tell us? _Not a note? A letter? What the hell is wrong with you boy?_" His fathers shouts were starting to come out in harsh Russian. And Jake just looked down, glaring at the floor.

"Nothing is wrong." he replied stonily, using the same language his father had. "I wanted to leave. I didn't think you would have cared. You never seemed to before." _Yes, maybe you would have cared that I broke a few rules. Alright, many rules. But you can't go and tell me it's because I didn't let you know of my whereabouts. _

His father narrowed his eyes, and Jake kept his gaze down, slightly nervous to look up. "Watch your tone with me, boy." Anthony hissed.

"There is nothing _wrong _with my damn tone." Jake shot, glaring up at him. It came out before he could stop it, and Anthony slapped him once more, glaring bitterly toward his son. Jake didn't care. His head snapped to the side, but he didn't raise his hand to his face. He just didn't care anymore. Sure, he was scared. But he was angry too. Fucking angry. His Father honestly had no right. Was this a show for their mother? Act like he felt her pain? She wasn't here now though, so why bother?

Jake turned his head back, now glaring toward his father.

"Watch. Your. Tongue." his father hissed, clenching his fists. He looked like he was ready to hit him again, but Jake kept going. He _really_ didn't care any more. (In fact, he was starting to get that, 'Go, on, hit me. Let's duel' line of thought.) Hastily, Jake shoved that back down. Bad bad idea.

"No, I won't. I'm happy I left, and you know what? I had a fucking _great_ time. You left! So you know what? I. Did. To. _Deal with it_." Jake tightened his hands into fists, ready to throw a punch if needed. His father was 6"2... Jake was only 5"10. The thought scared him slightly...but, oh well.

"_How dare you_?" his father retorted, raising his voice his voice. "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU SCARED YOUR MOTHER?"

_What?_ _How DARE he say that? Scare your mother? Yeah right! Like he gave a damn! _Jake thought, pure anger and hatred pulsing through him. That's it. He was sick of this. "It's not like you two fucking care!" Jake yelled, his knuckles going white. "Fine, she cried! You probably rejoiced! Hoped I was fucking DEAD! Why do you suddenly care NOW, HM? You ALWAYS ignore me! Never cared a damn what was going on with my life! Never bothered to ask! Hell, the Bloors know more about me than you do! And you're supposed to be my sorry excuse for a father!"

"ENOUGH WITH THE DAMN BLOORS! THOSE FILTHY HALF-BLOODS YOU SPEND YOUR TIME WITH ARE NOTHING!" His father's yelling was started to give Jake a headache, and he was starting to think he should just leave. But wanted to stay here and argue... He wanted to yell at his father, let him know how bad of a sorry crap Dad he was.

"They are closer family to me than you will EVER be!" Jake yelled back. The bravery inside him was being pushed on by his anger, and he refused to back down. This was the first time he'd yelled at his father like this. Let alone used this language toward him... Jake was hardly scared anymore. "I don't care what you think of them! You have no fucking right to judge them, you fucking bastard!"

"How DARE you talk to me like that?" Anthony roared, face going red from anger. He looked as if he was ready to punch him, and Jake flinched, about to raise his hands in front of his face. The blow never came though, and Anthony continued to glare at him, fuming.

"I'll talk AS. I. WISH." Jake continued, figuring his face was safe for now. He lowered his hands and started yelling again, waiting for his father to strike. "YOU DAMN BASTARD! YOU NEVER GAVE A DAMN! STOP PRETENDING YOU GIVE ONE NOW!"

"JACOB ANTHONY DOMINIC AUSTIN RYAN! THAT IS _ENOUGH_! IT'S ENOUGH YOU WENT WITH THE DAMN BLONDE, BUT TO COME BACK AND TALK BACK TO ME? YOU'LL BE LUCKY IF I LET YOU RETURN TO SCHOOL!"

Full name. He really was pissed. But he hadn't raised his fist yet...he was just standing there, fuming, but he hadn't hit him. The muscles in Jake's arms were aching now-he actually WANTED his father to hit him. He wanted a fight. Before he could think rationally and back down, sick with it all, Jake raised his own fist. "I'M GOING BACK!" he yelled, throwing a punch to his father. His heart was now pounding painfully, from fear and anger. He could actually hear the blood pulsing in his ears. Jake could hardly believe he'd just done that. Before his fist could land though, his wrist was grabbed, and Anthony turned his son's arm behind his back, shoving him into the wall. It was lined with a bookcase, and Jake's head slammed right into the shelf, a few books toppling down.

"I've had ENOUGH of this!" his father yelled, pushing his arm up to show how dead serious he was. Pain shot up Jake's arm and he bit down hard on his lip. He was going to brake his arm...his father was going to break it. _God, fucking stop..._

"NEVER, TALK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN. YOU ARE NEVER TO LEAVE THIS HOUSE WITHOUT PERMISSION AGAIN-IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?" he roared, pushing Jake harder into the wall. Jake winced, and tried to pull away, but his father simply pushed him down roughly to the ground. His head slammed down into the corner of his fathers desk, and he fell to the carpeted floor, lifting his arms to shield his head. Blood was now running from a deep gash on his temple and forehead, and a small cut on Jake's cheekbone gave proof to where he'd been slammed into the shelf.

His head was pounding, and Jake was desperately trying to stay in focus. He lifted one hand to where he had hit his head and drew it back down- it was covered in sticky red liquid. Jake glanced up nervously at his father, who looked like he was ready to kill. He backed up into the desk, trying to get out of his fathers way. The hand that was covered in blood was shaking ever so slightly.

"I said something, boy. Answer me when I speak to you." Anthony's voice was turning to a low growl once more, and Jake stumbled to stand up, trying not to get blood on the carpet. He glared at his father, trying to hide his fear and simply stood there, pushing his mind to think of the best way past him. Before he could think a second longer, a hand gripped his shirt and pushed him once again against the book shelf. It was Jake's back this time, so it wasn't as painful-that was until a book came falling down onto the boy's head. Jake winced, and lifted his arms to shield his face. His father's hand moved to his throat.

"I've had enough of you. I've had enough of your backtalk, your disrespect and your ungratefulness. I've had enough of you disgracing us and thinking you can do as you wish, treating my money like sand. I will not stand for this any longer." Anthony's voice was nothing more than an angry hiss now.

_ Is he going to kill me? _Jake thought disbelievingly. A sudden rush of fear pulsed through him. He lifted his hands to his fathers, trying to peel away his fingers. His grip tightened, and uncontrollable tears rushed into Jake's eyes. _He can't kill me...he can't. _Pain was now overtaking Jake's whole body, and he was having trouble focusing. He needed to stay with reality, or he'd collapse. He was tired, in pain and...afraid. It would be so easy to just faint.

Jake couldn't breathe, and now he was truly nervous. Where was his mother now? Didn't she just say she cared? Where the hell was she now when her dear husband was beating his son?

Anthony narrowed his eyes and took a step toward Jake, practically hissing in his face. "Your not leaving this house until I say. You'll stay in your room. I don't want to hear another word out of your filthy mouth unless it is appropriate. Am I understood, boy?"

With fresh tears rushing to his eyes, and his hands at his throat trying to pry of his fathers, Jake forced himself to choke out a reply. "Yes, sir." He whispered, trying to fill his lungs with air.

"Anthony, STOP IT!" A shrill yell came from the door, and both turned to look. In the door stood Mrs. Ryan, both hands covering her mouth. Tears were slowly filling her eyes, as she was sincerely scared for her sons life.

Mr. Ryan finally released his son, and Jake stumbled to the floor, choking. He took a deep gulp of air, trying to fill his lungs with as much oxygen as possible. His throat burned, and the tears weren't helping. Jake staggered to his feet slowly, swaying as he stood. He looked between his parents, eyes blurry. Mother took one look at her sons face and sighed. "Jake, get to bed." she whispered, trying to stop her own tears from flowing. Jake nodded slowly and was about to leave, he turned to his father first, scared to go without permission.

"May I go?" Jake whispered, voice rough. He was angry, and felt stupid, but he knew it was probably most wise.

"Yes. And you can stay in your room until I tell you otherwise." Anthony glared at him, his response nothing more than a hiss.

"Yes, sir." Jake murmured bitterly. He glanced at his mother once more before turning to leave the room. "Goodnight." he murmured solemnly, walking out the door. He went straight to his room, dragging his suitcase and duffle bag after him. As soon as he shut the door behind him Jake dropped them to the floor and collapsed onto his bed. In a few minutes he'd get up again, wash his face and take a hot shower. Then he'd sleep. For now though, the only thing he wanted to do was sit here. He wanted the pain to fade. The pounding in his head, the burning in his throat and the aching in his chest. He wanted it all to just disappear.


	3. A Mother's Love

**A/N: Continuing on with 'getting to know the characters' before we 'shove le drama on le characters.' Jokes this is kinda-really-dramatic. …. :) Review please! **

About a week had passed since I'd returned home, and as my father had promised I was locked in my room with nothing to do for hours. At first I had figured it wouldn't be so bad. I had my books. But when I came to my room I found I didn't, and the only book I had was the one I had brought with me to Paris. The rest were in the library, which, given the circumstances, was completely off limits to me. Reading was really the only thing I had to do. I mean, I couldn't see my friends, I couldn't speak with anyone, and being a wizard, Internet wasn't really an option. I slept the first few hours, and once I had gotten more than enough sleep I re-read the book from my bag. And re-read it again. And again.

I'd paced for a bit, tried to sleep a bit more, and when I really couldn't take it anymore I stared out the window for about a half hour. I had never realized it, but being alone for so long with nothing to do could drive a person mad. I needed to talk to someone so badly. I wanted to go see Ashley, or at least write a letter to her. Three had come from her already. It was good to know she cared. My hand kept twitching toward my quill, and my mind kept thinking to her phone. My cell phone was in my bag, but too afraid to use it I hadn't taken it out. I could easily imagine my father hearing something and barging in, ripping the cell from my hands and crushing it with a flick of his wand. The same with writing. Not only would he rip my letter to shreds if he found it, but I'd probably get hell for breaking more rules. I knew the consequences for breaking them. I wasn't really ready to risk it yet.

I still had marks of two days ago, and without a wand, the healing process hadn't gone too well. I couldn't do magic yet, so I had to clean my face up muggle-style. There was a large gash on my forehead, running down to my temple. It was caked with dried blood, and after a while I had just left it to stop the blood flow. A small cut ran across my left cheek, but the thought didn't worry me too much. It was already starting to close up. My neck and back head were covered in bruises, which believe it or not actually made my neck hurt like hell when I turned. I'd tried keeping my neck straight, but that only made it ache worse. I suppose it was kind of good I wasn't allowed out. Hopefully the marks would be gone by the time I stepped back into the real world and no one would know. It was better that way.

I had only left my room exactly thirteen times since I'd been in here. Well, not counting the time I opened the door and took two steps out. It had been bad timing. My father had been on his way up, and by the look on his face he was _not _in a happy mood. He had slapped me once more, yelled at me that I was told to stay IN my room. Stupid bastard. I did as he said, but I was pretty sure had I tried to leave again, I would have found the door locked.

Each time I actually had gone out, it had been for the purpose of meals. The first day I had missed breakfast and lunch, due to the little "run-in" with my Dad. I'd been called down for dinner though, and starving I'd gone down and ate without a word. I was pissed though. Beyond pissed. And the next day when I had been forced to sit through the other three meals, I glared most of the time. It was kinda surprising no one said a word about it. I went down, I ate, I went back up. That's how it was.

It was lunch time now, and I was still seated at my desk, quill in hand. I had thought I heard the front door close, and I was hoping my parents had gone out. I was hoping actually, to write a letter, but once I was actually sitting down I didn't know what to write. And it was kind of hard concentrating, because the fear of my father walking in was scaring the shit out of me. I'd never been so nervous in my life.

I felt stupid, and I hated him for making me feel like this. I felt like some scared little boy, running from the monster. I was sixteen. I could handle it. I was a Gryffindor for God's sake! I was as brave as you would get!

But, as much as I tried to convince myself that, my heard still pounded nervously every time I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. I don't know why, but I couldn't control the feeling. It just happened.

I glanced back to the door in a seriously paranoid way before returning to my paper. There were two words on it; the only two words that came to mind. _Hey Ash. _I was too nervous to think, so I went with the simple approach. I didn't want it to sound formal or anything. I wanted it to sound like a letter to a friend (well, girlfriend now), not some solemn note explaining how my father was a phsycopath that was abusing me.

You know, the only thing wrong with being a wizard was the lack of care. Muggles need just about every document and piece of information about them that you could possibly think of. Wizards? Most don't even know what a legal I.D. is. Well, okay, I didn't know until about a month ago, but that just proves my point.

In the muggle world, there is something called Kids Help line. Ash and I were totally discussing it. It's this line where any kid can call, complain about the 'rents, and in no time they are being moved to a better home and safer environment. In the Wizarding World? You call the ministry about it, and they'll call your parents to tell them to punish you for interrupting the work. It's completely mental. Here, it's roughly about 75 percent normal for a father to beat his child. Now, how sick is that? It's like the whole world is still living in the 1930's.

I sighed frustratedly and dipped my quill in ink again. Slowly I began to write.

_Hey Ash. Sorry I haven't been answering your letters. Thanks, by the way. Anyway, 'rents were home and kinda flipped that I left. Dad yelled at me then grounded me. It's fine, I'm totally cool with it... I actually wanted to laugh about the whole thing. So I'm stuck in my room for a bit, and if my Dad catches me now I'll probably get grounded for another week or something stupid. So can't make it long. As much as I love the letters, it would probably be best if you sto_

The door to my room opened and I dropped my quill, spinning around to see who it was. Really, I almost had a heart-attack. I knew it was probably my Dad, come to check what the hell I was doing up here. Thank God though, it was just the damn elf. Sheepishly it came over to me, making me heart slowly regain it's natural pace.

"Mr. Ryan," said the elf, hobbling awkwardly toward me. I let out a small sigh of relief and turned to it.

"What now?" I muttered, looking down at it. It nervously wrung it's hands together, glancing up at me every now and then.

"Lunch. ...L-Lunch is ready, sir."

I sighed at it's fear and nodded simply, gently. "Thanks. I'll be right down."

The elf nodded and backed away a few steps before scurrying out. Stupid thing. I glanced back at my letter and sighed, needing to finish it quickly. I did, telling Ash it was better she stopped mailing me, and that I'd see her soon enough. I told her not to worry at all, that I'd be fine, signing it with a signature J at the bottom. After folding it and sealing it with a wax stamp, I went over to my window, hoping to find my owl. Sure enough, was Dartmouth. He was perched on the sill, happily nibbling on some food, calm and content in his serene reality. He lifted his small head up when I came, and I quickly pet him, hoping he'd be silent. As if to mock me, Dartmouth let out a soft hoot and I glanced back, making sure no one had heard. It seemed like they hadn't. I turn back and gave the letter to the owl, putting it in it's beak.

"Ashley." I told him, pushing him a bit. Dartmouth hooted in response a flew away, my letter safe in his mouth. Smart bird.

I moved back from the window and to my bed, were a crisp white shirt was laid on the duvet. Shrugging it on and I buttoned it up, staring out at the window as I did. I slid my belt back through my pants once I was done, having thrown it to the side before. If it were up to me, I'd be dressed in a light blue shirt and jeans right now. But obviously that wasn't acceptable.

I slipped on socks and shoes before making my way down stairs. No way I was wearing robes. Hogwarts, when I left the house-I'd wear a cloak. I understand that. But now I was doing nothing but sitting in my room a whole day. Wearing the bloody thing seemed absurd in my mind. So I made my way downstairs, sleeves rolled up and top button undone.

None of the two said a word to me as I sat down, pulling my chair in behind me. I looked up to them awkwardly before pouring myself some pumpkin juice and taking a sandwich onto my plate. It wasn't three seconds before someone made a comment.

"What took so long?" my father asked, setting down his fork. He looked at me with that gaze that made me want to rip off his head. It was just so...condescending? I kept my gaze to my food and started to poke at the peas that I had just put on my plate.

"Um...getting dressed," I muttered, squirming once in my seat. I could still feel his gaze on me as I took a bite of my sandwich. "_Sir._" I added bitterly, putting some emphasis on it. No way was I calling him father.

"Yet you're only in a shirt and pants." he muttered, narrowing his eyes. I felt uncomfortable with him watching me, and still avoiding his eyes I took another large bite of my sandwich. I ignored him and continued to eat. He glared at me for it, and it looked as if he were about to open his mouth and reprimand me. Father seemed to change his mind though, because after a moment he dropped his gaze and continued eating. Thank God.

Lunch continued in deafening silence. Finally I finished eating, and after three sandwiches, an apple, and two glasses of pumpkin juice, I stood. My father had left a few minutes earlier, and my mother, who I knew was done eating, had stayed behind. It was kind she cared, but resentment still filled my mind every time I saw her. She should do something. She should stand up for me, or at least effing heal me.

I pushed in my chair and glanced at my mother once more before making my way back upstairs. Back to that room. The room which I would stay in for a whole five hours. With absolutely nothing to do. Wow, that sounded great. One foot on the stairs I stopped, suddenly getting some stupid idea. I looked upstairs and around me, making sure my father wasn't around. Thankfully, he wasn't. Hoping against hope he was in his study and backed down the stairs and made my way around them, continuing down the corridor. At the very end was the library.

Slowly I walked toward it, trying to keep my footfalls light on the floor. Not light enough I s'pose, because in seconds my mother was behind me, wanting to know what I thought I was doing. I turned around and answered her simply.

"Library." I murmured quietly, not wanting my father to hear me. I'd be dead. "I wanted to get a book."

"Jake, you know you wouldn't be allowed. Your father would have a fit." she muttered, crossing her arms. She shook her head at me, obviously disappointed by my behavior. Great, like I gave a damn.

"...So. Give me permission." I said, kind of ticked with her. With look my mother gave me back, you'd think I just asked her to fly me to the moon.

"Excuse me?" she asked, voice parenting.

I repeated what I said, firmer this time. "Give me permission. You are my mother are you not? So give me permission to take a book out. Your my parent too, don't you think you should have some say in what I can and cannot do? Please, don't pretend, you think this is as unfair as I do. So go on, give me permission."

She stared back at me, as if unsure of what to say. "Jake..." she started and then glared at me, shaking her head. "You have a nerve. You know that? You deserve this punishment running off like that. Your father has reasons for doing what he is. And giving you the luxury of taking out books when you please is ridiculous. There's a reason you're to stay in your room, Jacob. And I suggest you get back to it. NOW."

I ignored most of what she said, my entire focus directed to one particular thing. I deserved this. I deserved this?

"I deserved that?" I whispered, a rush of anger flooding through me. "Grounding, yes. Beating, no. I don't care if I'm insolent, or a child, or Pureblood, or British or if this family is old fashioned or whatever. I know kids who get slapped. Hell, it's common. But...I didn't deserve that. I didn't. And to think for a second you might have agreed with me, or even CARED that-" I stopped, my voice cracking. What the fuck was wrong with me lately? I couldn't control anything. I stopped and took a breath before continuing, voice becoming firm once more. "I thought you 'cared about me'. What the hell happened?"

My mother stared in response, either outraged that I was talking back to her, or surprised by my words. I hoped they hurt.

"You...you care. You're _supposed_ to care. You're my mother. But your scared of him. I know you are." My voice lowered to a whisper but I continued, my words coming out like ice pellets. "You refuse to stand up for your own damn son, let alone tell him it's wron-"

"Jake that's enough. Shut your mouth this _instant_." my Mother said firmly, voice as cold as ice.

"No-no I won't! You live this shitty life, following everything he fucking says and does! I can't TAKE this house. I can't! I can't take this house, this family, him, YOU. I can't take it anymore!" I felt like tears might start from my yelling but I didn't care anymore. I really didn't. I'd kept my mouth shut for 16 years-it was time someone heard this.

"I grew up _alone_, Mum! ALONE. By the time I was five I had to learn to fucking take care of myself! You never cared about me! Ever! And ANY time I try to make my life a tiny bit more happy you kill it! Both of you just seem as if you want me to have some miserable life! My friend's-My friend's have PARENTS. They have families, okay? And even the ones that don't? They're parents loved them. They cared for them, they listened to them-they didn't take of when the kid was six, and come back two weeks later! You think I fucking knew what happened? I didn't. I didn't know where the hell you were, okay?"

My vision was blurry, and to my surprise my eyes were...wet. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually produced tears. I was just so pissed at everything, I wanted to lash out. I wanted to tell her about every little shit thing she's done. I wanted her to know how much she ruined my life. I wanted her to feel pain from it. Apparently shit like that brought tears.

"You went along with EVERYTHING he did," I continued, voice shaking. "You stood and watched me and you didn't say a word! While my friends grew up living brilliant lives I got stuck with the two people who don't even know I'm on the quidditch team in my school. I'm CAPTAIN. I got Captain." Her face was expressionless and she watched me, listening to everything I was saying. But I wasn't done yet, and I wouldn't let her talk.

"The Bloors, they wonder why I'm never home. They wonder why the HELL I'm at their house every fucking second of the day! And I have nothing to say! And while they're having Christmas together I'm fucking home alone with some stupid elf! You don't CARE. You DON'T. For once I just needed a BREAK. You wouldn't have let me go to Paris! YOU KNOW YOU WOULDN'T HAVE! I wanted to be with someone who CARED about me for two FUCKING weeks! To be around someone who actually loves me!" I stopped for a minute, thinking how utterly lame that sounded. Had it really come down to this? Well, at least I knew it was true.

I shook my head and sighed, my voice lowering again. "God-did you know that? Did you know I'm dating her? Did you know I'm in love with her? Did you even care?" I was on again, shaking my head and blinking back tears.

"You sit around every day letting my life get worse and WORSE! You never tell him when it's enough, you just SIT THERE! What kind of fucking parent are you? Your not a mother! You're not... You're just some woman who probably wishes she could have done it differently, and when you realize it's too late, you stop caring. That's what you are. That's all you are." I whispered the last part, glaring at her through blurry eyes. "You're a fucking sorry excuse."

Moments of silence passed, and her eyes glassy she stared at me still. The next words out of her mouth were the four words I didn't want to hear, and the four words I didn't think she'd say. But I expected too much. In this household, even a word of kindness from your mother is too much. It always is.

"Get to your room." she hissed, glaring at me. "GET TO YOUR ROOM!"

I stood there for a moment before shaking my head and storming off past her. It was hopeless. It really was. They didn't care, and I needed to except that. How could I think she actually felt differently? Obviously not. I wiped the tears from my face hastily, fresh tears still forming. I was choking on them, trying to make them stop. The efforts were useless. I ran straight up to my room and slammed the door loudly, kicking the dresser hard as I walked in. The room was silent except for my heavy, hitched breathing. I sat down at my desk and buried my face in my hands, the tears coming out none the less.

What was wrong with me?

Unable to keep my frustration pent up, I let out a choked sob. I couldn't help feeling the hopeless weighing down on me, pushing into my shoulders like a physical message. A message that said 'You told her. You did something. You opened your mouth. _And no one gives a damn. Nothings going to ever change._"

Breath shaky, I took in another gulp of air as more tears snaked through my fingers and over my cheeks. I sat, and I cried. For once in a long, long time, I sat down and had a good hard cry.


	4. The Truth Hurts

**A/N: Thirdd chapter! And WOO! ASH! But yeah, REVIEW! :) (I'll give you a cookie...)**

A few hours later I woke, oddly finding myself on my bed, shirtless and under the covers. I couldn't remember getting into bed, but I must have. I could still feel the spots on my cheeks where tears had dried up. Damn it. I was such a sissy... What 16-year-old boy cries? Especially me? What the fuck was I, drunk?

Extremely annoyed with myself I stood and stretched, spreading my arms out to either side. The room was dark, only a sliver of light coming through the curtains. I walked over to the window and pulled them open. The second I did, bright radiance flooded the room, filling every spot with midday sunshine. Yippee.

I turned and rubbed my eyes once more, about to head off to the loo. Stopping dead set, I turned, a noise coming from below. Did the door downstairs actually just close? I ran to the window to peak, and sure enough the wanker was outside, walking with _her _toward the road. They were talking with someone, someone who obviously owned the large limo in front of the pave-way. Bloody brilliant. Were they really that stupid? I waited a bit longer, and sure enough they got into the car. And then it drove off.

Heart racing with that pure taste of freedom I ran to my bag (you know, the one I kept hidden under my bed should my parents ever find it) and pulled out my mobile, dialing the first number I ever learnt.

They were gone. My parents had left, and I was home alone. Could they really be so dumb? I had the entire house to myself now...and I could do anything I pleased. Well, for a few hours at least.

"Hello?" a girl's voice came from the other end, innocently high. I grinned widely and looked out the window, picturing her sitting on her bed right now.

"Prats left." I said simply, smile still wide on my face. I was never so happy to hear her voice. The shriek that followed wasn't exactly her "indoor voice" and I had to pull my mobile away. Far far away from my ear.

"JAKE!" she yelled, obviously sounding as happy as I felt. I laughed. "Merlin, you had me bloody worried! Stupid git, are you alright? Was he mad? I got your letter but you didn't help! If anything you made me more nervous to what the hell was going on! To hell that you were laughing, tell me right now what-"

"ASH." I said, stopping her. I laughed and sat down in my desk chair, moving from the window. "Calm down will you? I'm bloody fine...you worry to much."

"Oh forgive me, it's been a week. Can you hear me rolling my eyes? Because I am." she said, obvious sarcasm in her voice. "But good that you're alright...Merlin, I thought they'd kill you or something."

I forced a small laugh in reply, and nodded, even though I knew she couldn't see it. "Yeah, yeah, well close... Kidding. Really, Ash, I'm fine. Just thought I'd call you."

"Darn right you did. Wait...how can you call me? I couldn't even write to you because of some crap about your parents seeing."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to piss 'em off more than I had." I said, glancing toward the window again. "They, er, left though. Yeah, so I'm probably good for a few hours. I just _really_ needed to hear you're voice. You have no idea how boring it is."

As if she hadn't heard a single other word I'd said, Ashley asked one thing. "They're gone? Like they aren't home?"

"Um, yes." I said, figuring I knew what was coming. Oh Merlin, no.

"I'm coming over. Be there in five." she said without a seconds pause. I could hear shuffling in the back, and a zipper going up.

"ASHLEY, NO." I suddenly said fiercely, standing up. She seemed to stop moving.

"What, why not? I thought you wanted to see me!"

"Well, I do but-Ash they could be back any second, you aren't coming. They'd kill me."

I felt as if I could hear her roll her eyes again. "You just said we had hours! So what's a short visit? Five minutes, I swear, Jake! Do you not want to see me or something?"

"No, no that isn't it." I muttered, picking up the hurt in her voice. Damn girls. "Look, Ash I called to talk. You can't come over, okay? I love you and all, but you can't."

"Why then?" she asked, sounding seriously hurt this time. "Tell me why."

I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Because, okay? Can you just trust me?"

"No! Give me a reason!" she repeated stubbornly. Did she always have to do this? "Jake you have five seconds or I'm coming over there. Five. Four. Three-"

"Ashley STOP IT." I said seriously, words coming out a bit more harsher than necessary. "I told you no, so-"

"See you." BEEP. I stared down at my mobile in shock, wondering if she seriously had just hung up on me. What the hell? If she thought she was coming over here, she was dead. Oh bloody CRAP. She was, wasn't she?

I re-dialed her number furiously, getting voicemail every time. What the heck was she thinking? Didn't girls ever listen? I wanted to talk for Merlin's sake, not have her come over! I looked around my room quickly, looking for something to slip on. Grabbing a muggle sweatshirt I pulled it over my head, leaving the hood up. I brushed down my fringe and rolled my eyes, pissed off she was making me do this.

Seconds later I could hear the front door downstairs opening and I cursed, throwing my bedroom door open. Had my parents actually not charmed the fucking door? Well then again, there had been a muggle there... Not the point. I hurried down the stairs, hoping to stop her before she came up.

"Ash-" I started, seeing her as she walked toward the stairs. She looked up and a huge grin spread over her face. I stopped, wanting nothing more now than to kiss her. I hadn't seen her in what felt like forever. She started coming up the stairs and I snapped back into reality, taking a few steps up.

"Ashley, no, wait, stop." I said hurriedly. She looked up in confusion.

"What the heck, why?" Ash asked, taking another step up. I took one back.

"Um, because, I'm sick..." I said stupidly. Coughing loudly I held my elbow to my mouth to prove the point. "You have to leave."

"Oh, right out lie, Jake! What is up with you? Stop it, already!"

I swallowed and moved up again, holding out a hand in front of me. "Really, no. Look, a different day, okay? Ash, please."

She looked up strangely at me and shook her head. "What is _up_ with you? And what are you doing in a sweatshirt? It's summer and like, 95 outside."

I sighed and pushed my hand out again. "I TOLD you I was sick."

"And _I_ told you that was a fat out lie." Ashley glared at me, getting that stubborn determined look. Oh hell I hated that look. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and then, before I knew it, she was racing up the stairs into my arms. Ashley's hands wrapped around my neck and I was pulled down into a kiss, one I couldn't help but respond to. Merlin, I bloody missed that.

After a few moments she finally pulled away and I grinned stupidly, leaning down to kiss her again. Before I could though she reached up and pulled the sweater off my head, pressing her lips together when she saw I wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Ohhh, whoops." she joked, throwing the jumper to the floor. "Now I get the sweatshirt."

I swore mentally, but she didn't seem to notice it. I grinned forcefully, and nodded. "Yeah...but really, you should probably get going before my 'rents get back. You know, not that I don't love you being here. But...yeah."

Ashley rolled her eyes and moved up onto the landing so she was a step higher than me, making her about an inch taller. "We'll be fine...I promise." she said, and kissed me once more. It was gentle and sweet, and it was everything I loved her for. I didn't protest, and I kissed her back, wrapping my arms around her waist. She ran a hand through my hair, her palm coming dangerously close to my forehead. I started feeling conscious about it, and when she hit it-

I gasped in pain and stepped back from her, putting a palm to the gash on my forehead. It still hurt because it hadn't been treated properly. I had no idea how to do muggle first aid. I had no idea if it was infected or whatever. All I knew was that it hurt.

Ashley's eyes went wide, and she moved closer to me, trying to push away my hair to forehead. I pushed her hand away but she persisted, finally succeeding in grabbing my hand and pushing my bangs up. A small gasp escaped her lips.

"What the heck happened to you?" she exclaimed, looking at my forehead seriously. I pushed her hand away again and went back up onto the landing, so I was once again taller.

"I'm fine," I said, brushing it off. "I fell."

She looked at me skeptically, and I could feel her eyes on my face. Ashely slowly reached out to touch my cheek where a cut ran along side it. I pushed her hand away again once more.

"Ash. Stop." I said, narrowing my eyes. She frowned, but once again tried to reach up.

"You just fell? Where?" Ashley asked, concern clear in her voice. And disbelief.

"Um, stairs. Look, seriously, I'm fine. Let's get something to eat, 'kay?"

Ashley crossed her arms. "You wanted me to leave a second ago."

"Well-look do what you want." I muttered, self defensive now. Damn it. Like really, just why the hell did she have to bud into everything?

"Look, Jake I just wanna hel-"

"I know you do, okay?" I asked, once again to harsh. I sighed and closed my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just...stressed. Just stop freaking out over me. I can take care of myself. Just stop."

Ashley looked at me for a while, still frowning. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak. A soft voice came out.

"Why didn't someone heal it?" she asked.

I looked at her confused for a second before shaking my head. "What?"

"You're cut. Why didn't someone heal it?"

I glanced away, once again feeling self conscious. "I don't know...I didn't want to ask for help, alright?"

Slowly, she stepped forward. I didn't shove her away this time. Ashley lifted her hand and touched me cheek, following bruises down my neck. When she looked back up at me I could have sworn her eyes were shining.

"What happened." she whispered. "And tell me the truth."

I sighed, still stubborn about it, and looked away. "Don't cry on me Ash, seriously."

"What happened." she repeated.

I sighed and looked back at her. I swallowed at the sigh of her face, her eyes, and the look of fear I could see. I shrugged. "I got into a little fight with my Dad. No big deal."

Tears literally started to fill her eyes, and Ashley looked like she might break into sobs any second. "It is a big deal." she whispered, "He freaking...hurt you, Jake."

I looked away once more, my gaze now a glare. I didn't want her feeling sorry for me. At all.

"Stop it, okay?" I muttered. "I don't care. I'm fine." I wanted to say I was used to it, that I grew up with this, but that was really the last thing she needed to hear.

I could feel her watching me, and it was making me more uncomfortable by the second. "That isn't right." Ashley said, voice quiet again. "I'm telling my father...he has to do something. Jake that's horrible!"

"No." I said fiercely, turning back to her. "It's sweet that you care, but you CAN'T." My voice was firm, and I looked toward her directly as I talked. "I'd be in more trouble than I am now. Ashley, SWEAR to me you won't tell a soul."

She stared back at me and said nothing, so I repeated myself, telling her to swear. Once again she stared back. Finally she shook her head.

"Jake, I can't-"

"YES YOU CAN." I growled, dead serious about this now. I took her hands in mind and looked at her with all the sincerity I could muster. "Swear. To me. Now. No buts. Just do it Ashley. Or I swear to Merlin I'm never speaking to you again. I'll be dead before that happens."

More tears spilled over and she stared back at me, clearly debating her options.

"If you really cared you would. Swear you won't tell."

Silence followed for a few seconds before she opened her mouth to speak. "I swear I won't." she whispered, and looked down. I took her and kissed her again, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Shh, okay? I'm going to be fine." I cracked a small smile. "You worry too much."

Ashley shook her head and looked away from me. "No. Jake that isn't funny." She moved her hands from mine and crossed her arms close against her body, as if trying to comfort herself.

I sighed loudly and leaned into kiss her again. She simply moved out of my way. That better not have just killed the mood. "Oh, what? Look, I said I'm FINE. Now all of the sudden your upset with me? Just...forget it Ashley. I'm 16, a guy, and I can handle myself perfectly. I don't need some 5"7 blonde girl worrying about me."

Her head suddenly turned sharply to me and she glared. "You know, I just wanted to help you. And I get it fine if you didn't want me saying anything-well, no, I don't, but that at least I can deal with it. I get it you don't want me worrying, and you think you're fine. But you're being a right down jerk about it. If this is some crap about being able to handle yourself, and how I'm some 'girl' who shouldn't feel sorry for you, then shove it. Because I don't know if you realize this, but in the muggle world, your father could get arrested. And just because this society is a little MESSED up, and it's quite common for fathers to reprimand their children physically does NOT mean that it is alright for your father to beat you and for you to have cuts like that. It is NOT okay for there to be bruises on your neck. Jake, it looked like he tried to...you know what he did."

I glared back at her, hating when she gave me those speeches. She was right. And wrong. I _could_ handle myself, and I didn't need her worrying. But...I guess my father trying to kill me is a bit...uncalled for. Then again, I'm sure he wouldn't have actually gone through with it. He was trying to teach me a lesson.

"Ashley. I understand how you feel, alright? I get it that you care. But this isn't about pride or being sexist or anything." Okay, so the last part wasn't exactly true, and I did feel kind of ashamed and I didn't want her help _because_ I felt ashamed. But she didn't need to know that. "This is about my father probably killing me if he found out that you were here, or that I told you, or whatever. So he beat me. It was one time Ashley." She was staring back at me, listening to my words, and by the look on her face, not exactly liking them. "In a few months I am going to be 17 and I can find a place of my own. In one month I am going to be back in Hogwarts. In a few weeks I'm going to heal. So...it isn't the biggest deal. As long I don't run to Paris again I'm going to be FINE." Finally she looked away.

"It still isn't right." Ashley whispered after a few seconds of silence. I moved so I was in her view.

"I know. But I can deal with it, and yes, I'm going to be fine without any else's help. To you this is hell and to me this is life. So please forget about this?" I looked at her seriously, but gently, really just hoping she would drop it.

She sighed and met my eyes, nodding. "I can't forget, and I really want to just murder your parents now. Like, I'm fuming inside. But," she stopped, and took a breath, calming herself. "If this is really what you want then I won't tell anyone. Be careful though, okay?"

I leaned in and kissed her gently, before breaking away and looking at her. I smiled crookedly. "You worry to much."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, sighing. "And you're an ass." Pushing a small smile Ashley leaned up and kissed my cheek. "But I trust that you're going to be fine." She didn't sound like she did. But it was sweet she pretended.

I grinned and made a quick peck for her lips before taking her hand and pulling her down the stairs. "Good to know. Now, let's get something to eat."


	5. Start of Something New

**A/N: Hey! Wow this is super weird... started this ages ago! Thought I'd pick it up again though. Read City of Lost Souls and it got me in such a crazy writing mood... Jace just reminds me of Jakey-kins :P Anyway, here's the next chapter-enjoy! :) Short but I wanted to get this up... Review please! Note: Reviews may or may not result in the reward of a brownie.**

* * *

"So, how long are you grounded?" Ash asked, fork raised. She had a fruit bowl in front of her while I was making my way through a double-decker grilled cheese. That was another perk to having the house to myself-the elves made me whatever the shit I wanted, whenever I wanted.

"I'm not actually sure," I replied thoughtfully. I took a large bite of my sandwich and set my elbows down on the table-another thing I couldn't do should my parents be home. "He kind of just told me to stay in my room."

She nodded slowly and lifted a piece of strawberry to her mouth. Silence followed for a few moments.

"So, um, you'll call me the second I can see you again, right?" her voice was so innocently concerned that I actually smiled, nodding afterward.

"Yeah, I'll come over as soon as I can, promise."

* * *

A week had passed since I saw Ashley's face, and I found myself constantly thinking about how much I missed it. It was weird doing absolutely nothing all day-I usually had training, and if not I used the rare opportunity to spend my morning with Katie and my girlfriend. I figured my father needed time to get over the treacherous crime I'd committed, to let his anger subside so he wouldn't 'accidentally' slice my arm off next time we tried sword training.

Either that, or he thought due to some weird chemical imbalance in my brain I actually enjoyed training and was using this lack-thereof as a punishment.

Well, given my ridiculous behavior last week I wouldn't exactly blame him if he did.

Whichever it was, Father had clearly decided the reason was no longer applicable because I was told at dinner that training would resume. Tomorrow. At 6AM sharp. I wasn't sure if I was happy to be given something to do other than staring at my wall or if I was dreading the morning with a passionate feeling of hate. Most probably the latter.

My guess was confirmed when 5:50 AM came much too soon. With a groan I pulled myself from bed and dragged my legs into cold marble bathroom, the floor sending a frosty numbness into the souls of my feet. I almost didn't realize how amazingly lucky the past week had been, getting to sleep in until eight. Sparking my Father's temper had almost been worth it.

I tiredly rubbed at my eyes and proceeded with my morning routine: you know, a piss, brushing my teeth, shaving. Then changing into loose fitting sweat pants, a plain white t-shirt, and proper running shoes of course. Once that was taken care of, I proceeding to make my way down stairs and to my father's study.

The large double doors were impressive dark wood, tall and broad, looming over me as if to remind me that just when I'd been enjoying my break, dreadful mornings were soon to follow. And all I had to do was step through the doors to start them. _Bloody hell. _After taking a deep breath (it was needed, for I had a feeling the next few hours weren't going to be just a jog to pick flowers), I knocked.

It'd become a rule years ago to check in with him before I left in the morning, due to that one time I may or may not have been sleeping in when he assumed I was outside running.

"Enter." I heard him respond. His voice was still lined with that extra roughness morning brought.

I did so calmly, erasing any emotion I may have had on my face. Regardless of what may had happened, I knew I was expected to go back to the way I'd been previous to my little stunt-I'd had enough years of lessons to know that.

"Good morning, Sir." I said, tone flat.

Father was up and working as he was every morning, and he barely even lifted his head to acknowledge my presence. Finally, after a few long seconds of him scribbling something down he muttered, "You're wasting my time boy, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothing. Sorry." I added Sir as an afterthought, and retreating from the room I shut the door behind me. Bloody bastard.

I stepped outside the manor into the cool air, it's crispness quickly fading with the rising run. The sky was streaked with oranges and yellows, sharp lines against the pale blue. I'd admit, it was pretty. But I think I would have chosen sleeping in over watching it.

Sucking in the frigid breeze I took off running, around the side of the house and into the familiar forest path I knew all too well. It was true this was part of training, something I swore bugged me to no end, but there was something about running I actually enjoyed. It may have been lame, but it cleared my head. And as that was impossibly hard to do, I was grateful.

* * *

I ducked the next spell, too tired to block it. The sparks flew past my head, and within seconds two more jets of light followed. I just ducked and backed away, stumbling further until my back hit a stone wall. I was exhausted, beaten down, and my brain was much too worn right now to properly send curses back.

His wand suddenly shoved hard into my throat, making me wince.

"You're pathetic." My father muttered with a heavy voice, lowering his wand. I leaned my head back in relief, sweaty and painting.

"I'm tired. We've been at it for over an hour." I knew it was a shitty excuse-but hey, it was true. He gave me a look as if to confirm just how pathetic that excuse was, but pocketed his wand regardless. Muttering "finally" I did the same.

"Go shower and dress. And in proper robes Jacob. I want you in the living room in 20 minutes."

_Proper robes? _"May I ask for what?" I kept my distance-he was letting things slip, ending training early. I wanted to make sure he didn't suddenly lose his temper on me.

"No." Father said firmly, ending the conversation. "Get upstairs-now."

I did as he said and moved past him, rolling my eyes once I had. Stupid prick. I took the steps two at a time up to my room then straight into the bathroom. He'd better not be making me get dressed just so he could lecture me on how bad my dueling skills were. I'd have a bloody fit.

After stripping, showering, dressing, and reluctantly going back down stairs, I sat myself down on my mother's expensive couch. My father was already waiting there for me, leaning back into the couch opposite me. He wore the same silently stern expression he always did, as if he may have been contemplating a business deal, but this time it was joined with an unsettling calmness. And not his angry type of calmness, a comfortable type of calmness.

What the hell was he going to tell me?

* * *

**A/N: Do youuu likeee it? Do you want more? Well I can't possibly know if you don't tell me, Gosh :P **

**Hot-Girl-Problems to follow. (But not the type you're thinking of.) (No trust me. You're not.)**


End file.
